


From the Heart (and Sole)

by Taliax



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chat Noir/Ladybug Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Foot Massage, Humor, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Romance, apparently that is a tag so we're gonna use it, could probably be rated G but i'm erring on the side of caution, no reveals here lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Ladybug's suit doesn't have any arch support.  Luckily, she has a supportive partner who can help.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 84
Kudos: 563





	From the Heart (and Sole)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LNC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LNC/gifts).



> Breaking my usual silly reveal fic brand for some ladynoir fluff. Inspired by lnc2’s tumblr post: https://gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights.tumblr.com/post/190301790972/lnc2-lnc2-chat-noir-has-boots-but-what-about
> 
> Please ignore the fact that I may be misinterpreting Mister Bug and Lady Noire’s costume designs as well, it’s vaguely plot relevant lol.
> 
> (Minor vague teasing about foot fetishes, just warning)

Long-distance akumas were the _worst._ She and Chat had swung, vaulted, and ran all the way across Paris to catch Cyclone, an akumatized cyclist upset he’d lost his place in the Tour de France. A very very _fast_ cyclist, thanks to Hawkmoth’s assistance.

“I think we should switch kwamis again,” Marinette grumbled as she dropped down to sit on the roof, her legs dangling off the side like the deadweight they were. 

“You know if you ever want to wear the clown costume all you have to do is ask.” Chat Noir smirked as he plopped down beside her, one foot resting over his knee. “I doubt I could’ve come up with what you did with the laundry detergent, though. I probably would’ve just asked for a jet pack. Or a motorcycle. Ooh, or maybe—”

“The Lucky Charm doesn’t _work_ like that.”

“Maybe not for you. Maybe I just know what I want.” He leaned into her space, and it looked like he might have been wiggling his eyebrows, but it was hard to tell under his mask.

Marinette bit back a laugh and pushed him back by the nose. “Nice try. I know _exactly_ what I want in that regard, kitty.”

That statement was… not quite as true as it used to be. She knew she was after blond hair and soft green eyes, after someone who was kind and sweet and selfless. But before she’d realized it, the model smiles and loose t-shirts in her dreams were joined by teasing smirks and tight leather.

...But it was just because she spent so much time with Chat, that’s all. For all the distance she’d tried to keep, it was hard to resist getting closer to him. He was her _best friend._

“The akuma right has nothing to do with it though,” she went on before she could fall down that rabbit hole again. “Well I guess it does a little. Sort of. I mean—I want your boots.”

Chat blinked. “I don’t think they’d fit you, Bug.”

“I _mean,”_ she huffed, gesturing to her own suited feet, “I have no arch support whatsoever. The miraculous cure might fix the akuma’s damage, but I’m still left with two slabs of pain hanging at the end of my legs.”

They had (separately) dropped their transformations to feed their kwamis before suiting up again, but that hadn’t eased her aching feet either. She was still really, _really_ not looking forward to making it all the way back home. 

“Let me get this straight,” Chat said with a stifled snicker, “you want to borrow Plagg so your transformation will give you real shoes.”

“Hey, I’d like to see _you_ run around my suit and not complain. And your Mister Bug transformation doesn’t count. Tikki gave _you_ boots.” She crossed her arms. 

He leaned back on his palms and smirked. “Careful, Bugaboo. I’m flattered you’re jealous of me, but green really isn’t your color.”

She shoved his arm, sending him flopping back on the roof with a laugh.

“I regret asking. You keep the clown costume.”

He tucked his hands behind his head before flashing a wink. “You just know you’d miss seeing me in black leather.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” She rolled her eyes, which kept her gaze from where Chat was stretched out, practically begging to be stared at. She’d hate for her expression to prove him right.

“Im- _paw_ -ssible, you mean.” He gave a lopsided grin. Yep, she could just focus on that, and not the way he was lounging like he was attempting to recreate one of Adrien’s model poses… and succeeding…

(Even best friends weren’t supposed to stare at each other like that, were they?)

His voice snapped her out of ogling him. “If your feet really hurt, though, there’s always something else you could ask.”

“I already tried.” She sighed. If nothing else, the pain in her feet was also a good distraction from her unfairly attractive partner. “Tikki can’t change the suit at this point. Not unless I can drastically change how I see myself, but I can’t perform the mental gymnastics to pull _that_ off.”

“I wasn’t talking about Tikki.” He sat up abruptly and held out his hand. “You know I’ll support you, even if your footwear won’t.”

Her nose scrunched. “Sorry, Chat, but I don’t think moral support is going to heal my feet.”

“I didn’t mean moral support. Foot massage, no strings attached. For my partner who carries the whole world on her shoulders without even an insole.”

He beamed at her, as if rubbing her stinky, sweaty feet would be a favor to _him_. 

She shook her head. “You really don’t have to, Chat. My feet are disgusting.” Especially after dashing across Paris all afternoon. Her soles had to be caked in grit from every street in the city. 

“You could never disgust me, my Lady.” He grinned dopily. It should be illegal for him to show that kind of adoration with just a smile. It was getting harder and harder to remember why she kept rejecting her partner.

_Because you’re still in love with Adrien._ Because she couldn’t give Chat the kind of unwavering devotion he already showed her. And because he didn’t deserve anything less.

...But he did offer the foot rubs with no strings attached. With the way her feet were throbbing, to turn him down would be nothing but an act of pride.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She kicked her feet up into his lap. The suit protected her from the rough concrete and debris her feet were constantly exposed to, but the magical fabric barely dulled the soft touch of her partner’s hands. All things considered, they’d shared weirder touches—they’d been tied up and tangled together more times than she could count at this point—but something about his soothing ministrations felt more intimate than she expected. Maybe she’d just expected him to play a prank and tickle her, but this…

“If I would’ve known you’d do _this,_ I would have asked you ages ago.” Her voice was a little breathless as she laid back perpendicular to him. His thumbs continued to massage heavenly patterns into the arch of her foot.

“So you’ll admit my hands are good for something besides using Cataclysm?” His voice was teasing, but she didn’t care. Her foot had _never_ felt this good. How much pain had built up there over the weeks and months of akuma fights? 

More importantly, how could she convince Chat to make this a regular thing?

_“Yes,”_ she breathed. “Where did you learn how to do this? You have a side job as a masseuse?”

He chuckled but kept up the motion of his magical hands. “Old friend, actually. She always found ways to make me give her foot rubs when we were younger.”

“Lucky girl,” Marinette murmured, her eyes slipping closed. He moved his attention to her other foot, working his way up from her heel towards her toes. If this was how good Chat was with her feet…

Nope, nope, she was not letting that train of thought out of the station.

“Don’t worry, LB, your feet are _much_ cuter than hers.”

“Please tell me you don’t have a weird thing for feet,” she blurted, apparently having lost her filter to his hands.

He just laughed, though. “Only yours,” he said, and then she felt something soft press to the top of her big toe.

_“Chat!”_ She sprung upright to see him winking again before pulling his lips back from her foot. “Gross! You don’t know where that’s been!”

That only made him laugh harder—so hard he was actually gasping for breath. “Your _face!”_

She snapped her jaw shut, only then realizing how dumbly she’d been gaping. “You kissed my foot! What did you expect me to do?”

“I kiss your hand all the time.” He shrugged, his grin turning sly. “So unless _you_ have a thing for feet…”

“Oh my gosh, Chat, shut up.” She covered her blushing cheeks, mostly just disappointed that there was no way she could both keep her dignity _and_ ask him for another foot massage.

“I wouldn’t tell. I’d give you alllll the foot rubs you want.”

“Tempting,” she muttered.

“Hmm? What was that?”

She glared out from between her fingers, but couldn’t tell from his teasing grin if he’d actually heard her or not.

“I was just wondering,” she said, beginning to spin a plan in her mind. “Foot massages aren’t that hard, really. Of course you’d be good at them.”

His grin fell to a pout. “What are you getting at?”

“I mean, a _real_ challenge would be giving a good neck and shoulder massage. It takes a strong enough touch to ohhh _hhhhh…”_

She was _gone._ He’d moved to kneel behind her, his fingers angled to keep his claws from pricking her as he dug into the knots that had been afflicting her for ages. Anxiety and tension unraveled under the circular motions of his thumbs.

“What was that, Bugaboo?” He whispered near her ear, sending shivers down her spine—shivers that he could probably feel, considering his hands had moved closer together to massage between her shoulderblades.

“You’re… _terrible.”_

“Mm-hm. I guess I should just stop, then—”

“Don’t you _dare.”_

Gone, gone, _gone._ And from her quick response, he had to know it too.

His hands paused for half a second before starting again.

“As my Lady wishes,” he purred.

He didn’t hold back. His fingers dug deep into muscles tight from use, pressing hard enough to make her wince at times. But it still felt like heaven. Why was she not dating this boy, again?

_Bad Marinette,_ she told herself. _You can’t date your partner just to take advantage of his back rubs. Or the fact that he’s hot. Or the fact that he would literally die for you, and has proved so on several occasions._

_Or the fact that he’s madly in love with you. Can’t forget that._

Those reasons were not listed in order of importance, but they _were_ rather compelling. Particularly with his touch melting away her more rational objections.

She wasn’t sure how long it was (not long enough) when his hands finally stilled, resting with his thumbs gently brushing the curve of her shoulderblades.

“What do you say? Did I pass the test?” He asked, sounding a little self-conscious now.

Test of what? Seeing if he could turn her into a puddle? The answer to that was a definite _yes_ , but she’d prefer to keep that information confidential for at least a little longer.

“Y-yeah. Thanks, kitty.” 

Her skin missed his warmth as he drew back.

“Anytime, Bugaboo.” 

It sounded like he really was willing to let that be the end of that. No strings attached. But—

“I still owe you,” she said, tucking her legs under her and turning to face him.

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he replied with a chuckle. “You never do like to accept help, even from me. Or maybe it’s _especially_ from me…”

“That’s not it.” She shook her head, scooting closer. Was that really what he thought? “We’re partners, Chat. I just don’t want to take more than I give.”

“You give me plenty, Ladybug.” His voice turned serious as his hand inched towards hers, before coming to rest on the concrete roof just a centimeter away. “Just getting to spend time with you outside of fighting akumas is a treasure. I wouldn’t ask for anything more than that.”

Despite his usual outrageous flirting, she knew that was true. If she ever wanted him to stop, he would.

But she’d never wanted him to. Maybe because she knew deep down, she’d been falling for him all along.

“Hmmmm.” She looked away, out towards the sunset horizon. “That’s too bad.”

“Huh?”

A grin tugged at her lips. “I hear your Lucky Charm gives you exactly what you ask for.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his expression turn from confusion, to shock, to hope.

“And you… know what I’d ask for, right?”

Her shrug screamed nonchalance. She could only hope it would cover up the pounding of her heart. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Maybe she couldn’t give Chat her whole heart yet. And maybe part of her was being selfish, worn down by his teasing smiles and melting hands. But… she had a feeling that if she let down this last barrier, it wouldn’t be long before she was giving him the same smitten look he directed at her now.

“Will you go out with me, my Lady?” His hands were clasped beneath his chin, his tone practically begging. It almost made her regret what she was about to say. But she couldn’t let him off _that_ easy.

“That depends.” 

Her quick reply startled him—but not as much as the soft, slow kiss she pressed to his cheek. 

She decided that she absolutely _adored_ the stunned look on his face, the pink blooming beneath his mask, his golden eyelashes fluttering. He was still gaping when she tossed one last wink over her shoulder.

“Can you _cat_ ch me now that my feet are _feline_ good again?”

And he was still gaping when she tossed her yo-yo out to the next roof.

“Ladybug, wait—!”

She was done waiting. Maybe he had a point about the Lucky Charm—he’d always known what he wanted. She’d always gotten what she _needed._

Finally, it seemed those two things were one and the same.


End file.
